


Lessons

by PolarGrizz47



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, learning how to dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarGrizz47/pseuds/PolarGrizz47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reese wouldn’t say that he was surprised by the fact that the somewhat regal man knew how to dance; it was rather hard imagining the man gliding effortlessly on the dance floor with his injuries. All throughout the time the skilled savoir had known Harold; he’d been limping and sighing softly in the throes of a never ending pain. Although, Reese had to remind himself that Finch wasn’t always broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons

Finch wasn’t a loud man. He was a quiet, kind and polite man. Sincerely truthful and gentle, Finch was the enigma of the recluses. The man, who had hunted Reese down, befriended him and enlisted the ex-op into the never ending battle of a worthless sense of peace.

Reese wouldn’t say that he was surprised by the fact that the somewhat regal man knew how to dance; it was rather hard imagining the man gliding effortlessly on the dance floor with his injuries. All throughout the time the skilled savoir had known Harold; he’d been limping and sighing softly in the throes of a never ending pain. Although, Reese had to remind himself that Finch wasn’t always broken.

Neither of them was.

-:-

“You’ll be dancing at the gala, a rather fancy event, so try not to draw much attention to yourself.” Finch informed as he carefully set to laying out the tallers man clothes for the event. Simple, yet obviously complex, black and white English cut suit on the desk. The slimming material was tailored to the dot with Reese’s towering measurements that the recluse knew like the back of his hand by now. Although Reese defiantly did not require a slimming edge, Finch felt it his duty to flaunt his charming worker around like a proud child at the 4-H fair.

Reese would usually be chatting his ears off on terms of detailed information, what to do correctly, who to dance with, what to listen out for-but instead the ringing echo of silence burned in the book filled room. Licking his suddenly dry lip, Finch looked up slightly at the stoic man, who had folded himself in a corner, and was pouting like a kid put into bed early for sticking gum in his sister’s hair. Raising a brow, the genius limped over to his ex-op, “Something the matter?” He inquired with a slight head tilt, a stinging in his neck reminding him that posture was the key to perfection.

There was a jumbled set of words, low whispered and spoken like a curse. Finch didn’t quite catch them, and after a confused few blinks, Reese gave an exasperated sight and slouched his shoulders. “Dancing was never in the details, Finch.” Was all he could really say without giving away his flaw. Finch didn’t seem to understand right away, humming a bit to himself as he’d become distracted by some information on their ever cracked board.

“Oh, is that a problem, Mr. Reese?” He again asked, watching out of the corner of his eye as Bear rose from his bed and stretched, lolling his tongue out and clicking his neatly timed nails against the darker oak wood as he trotted lightly around the building, making the rounds. John was biting at the inside of his cheek, scrunching up his face a little and giving a rather amusing expression. Finch was too polite to comment.

“I-uh…” Reaching up to claw at the back of his head, messing with the dark and greying locks, his perfectly straight teeth and charming error showing as he blushed in the tiniest bit. “I can’t dance.” It was whispered, on his dying breath it seemed as Reese seemed to ever elope into the shadows and lock himself away from his worry and embarrassment.

There was an almost tense air of silence as Finch stared hard into their recent numbers older face, chewing his lip as he thought of a logical solution to this problem. They stayed like that for a while, Reese busying himself by leafing through a rather boring book, Harold should know, he’s read and re-read every single book he owned in this little enclosure. With a clearing of his throat, the smaller man turned rigidly to face his partner with a weary gaze.

The only reasonable solution, “Well, come here, it’s not so hard.” Finch mumbled, looking at the bookshelves, past Reese’s astonished face and numbing himself for denial. Which didn’t come. Instead there was a moment of fumbling as Reese shoved the book back into its rightful place and shifted the frame of muscle from side to side.

“Are you, I mean… can you dance?” The cities once corrupted angle mumbled, steel eyes downcast as he motioned toward Finch’s right side. Slightly offended by this slander, Finch puffed up his chest and gritted his teeth.

“Although my… disabilities limit some activity, dancing a simple waltz won’t kill me. As I reckon, you’re apparently a quick learner, so let’s get this over with.” The older man practically hissed, pale orbs cutting deep to bone as he glared at Reese. The way John dodged his glare, swallowed down his pride and whispered a meek apology at his careless words made Finch ease up a bit, everyone made a wrong move there and here. Clearing his throat and stepping closer, evading Reese’s personal bubble and crossing his arms, Finch started on his lesson. “Now, we’ll stick to a more… simple dance. You shouldn’t be dancing with any royalty.”

“Alright.” Was all John confirmed, straightening his posture and letting the recluse manipulate his well sculptured body into a proper dancing position. He stood with back taught and left hand slightly raised and the right one lowered to his waist, palm up.

“Now, you must always keep your left hand clasped with your partner’s right, and your right hand must always skirt upon their shoulders. Don’t reach lower unless… well, you get the idea.” Finch mused, stepping closer, “We’ll start with a three step.”

When Reese’s hand intertwined clumsily with Finch’s right hand, and when Finch’s left hand rested lightly on the ex-ops shoulder without a problem and Reese awkwardly wrapped his left arm round the left hand side of Harold and held him there, a sense of haunted pasts nibbled in the deepest most forgotten places of both their minds. The recluse was too caught up in trying to maneuver Reese around in the limited space correctly to fully see or realize the way Reese surveyed his body.

To see that lost sense of _want_.

-:-

They danced for a good two hours, time getting away from either of them as Finch took upon great patience and constantly perfected Reese’s form, slowly the ex-op got the hang at the ever increasing and complex number of moves Finch insisted on piling on. Although he had desperately tried not to trample Finch’s toes, that seemed rather impossible at this point, the way Finch muttered and pulled Reese this way, then that way. Each time Reese’s foot would settle on top of Finch’s brown shoes, he would let out a string of apologies and quickly lift his foot up, nearly toppling over. Finch let his lips slip up in the tiniest of smiles.

Around nine, Finch embarked to his desk, sighing as he plopped down on the chair, stretching his cramped legs and taking the weight off his aching feet. Reese felt bad for keeping the recluse on his feet for so long, but the electric buzz of having the older man so near to him made his head dizzy, his heart fluttering. There was no way in _hell_ , which he’d fallen in love for Finch, of all people.

-:-

“Mr. Reese, we have some uninvited guests entering in the west wing of the building. Please keep Mrs. Anderson close.” Finch spoke urgently into the ear piece, watching as Reese twirled and glided across the cramped floor, other couples easing their way past Mrs. Anderson and the ever extravagant Mr. Reese. The older woman was kind and a well skilled dancer, she just kindly suffered through some of Reese’s blatant errors and smiled. Finch had realized that John would need some more practice before he’d ever be close to becoming a dancing master.

-:-

The number was saved, the threats easily disposed of and hidden away, evidence buried with the help of Carter and Fusco. Finch was there to pick the fatigued Mr. Reese up, the man looking beat, and his feet no doubt sore by this point and ankles screaming, but the man insisted on driving. Ever the gentleman as he helped Finch around the car, held open the door, closed it and got in on the driver’s side.

The ride was silent, both watching the city light up under the guidance of the moon, the radio playing a variety of tunes, streaming down the speaker.

-:-

Throughout the next two months, Finch spent his free time dancing with the ex-op, pushing aside the desk and the sparse furniture as they advanced onto more demanding dances. His injuries only acted up every so often, and there was no way he’d be able to grace Reese in the art of swing dancing or jitterbugging. But the taller man seemed perfectly fine with that.

-:-

Around the third month, Reese grew bold. The feeling constricting around his heart urging him to take a leap of faith. To step out of a carefully pre-set boundary and test the waters. Every time Finch would smile, even the tiniest, his heart skipped two beats. When the older man would unknowingly lavish his abused lower lip with licks and bites, lost in codes and compound thoughts, possibilities- Reese would be watching and ordering his nether regions down. It wasn’t long before he was jealous of Bear, the dog constantly being petted and praised by the genius; the added benefit of almost always being near the recluse was torture to the neglected Mr. Reese.

On their next dancing day, this had ended up being every week now, given the time and situation, Reese had waited until the music flooded into his heartbeat, and they built up a steady speed of executing the pre-planned steps. Then he made his move.

Finch was hurting more today, Reese could tell by the way his right leg lifted up quicker, setting the tempo of their dance off a bit. It was the perfect excuse. When Finch eased the pressure off his leg, the ex-op used deft skill to slide his foot under the place where his dancing partner would next be stepping. Finch’s foot lightly touched the top of Reese’s shoe, and he quickly lifted it up, looking astonished by the beginner’s error, since Reese hasn’t faltered in a good two weeks.

“Sorry, my bad...” Finch spoke quickly, looking down at their feet, the movement stopped but the music kept its steady and slow rhythm. Reese bit his lip in an upset gesture; he was hoping Finch would cooperate without causing an awkward sense of friendship.

‘ _You know what, fuck it._ ’ Reese thought, his heart taking control of his mind and body, the weary sense of something lurching forward to pounce on the opportunity, no matter just how risky.

-:-

Finch had completely froze, eyes wide as he felt the slightly chapped lips gently brush over his, his blood rushing to his ears and face, heart beat thrumming in the background while Reese pulled back. For a moment, neither of them moved, both looked just as shocked, both suddenly red and blabbing mixed confused phrases of apologies and nameless words.

Reese kept spitting out apologies left and right, dropping his hands and stepping back, leaving Finch some space to breath and sort out his racing thoughts. Although within the minute, Finch cleared his throat to interrupt Reese’s steady flow of sorrow.

“Mr. Reese.”

Still the man insisted on apologizing, shaking his head and staring at the floor.

“ _John_ ,” He tried again, steeping closer and touching the ex-ops shoulder as he searched the steel eyes for some kind of cruel joke, a sick prank, twisted game. All he got was a sincerely truthful and heartbroken gaze-Reese had been fighting the very sense of need and want for god knew how long. Reese looked away, out toward the window and onto society, the birds and drifting clouds. “Look and me, John.” Finch nearly pleaded, his voice staying firm and confident, pale eyes watching as the tanner man swept his disheartened gaze back toward the awaiting recluse. Before the ex-op had a chance to explain himself, Finch kissed him.

The smaller male let his lips linger, giving John a short amount of time to file away his raging emotions and actually react in the gesture of devotion. Reese took to it gladly; slitting his lips against Harold’s and sinks into the near velvet feeling of the older man’s lips against his own-damn did Finch know how to care for himself. Cupping a hand against the pale cheek and drawing the kiss deeper, Reese was granted access to feeling the soft and smooth skin of the reclusive billionaire. The shorter pressed unyielding into the kiss, letting out a low moan when Reese grew too curious and slid an knee over the front of Finch’s pants, which, naturally, the larger man took full advantage of by slipping his tongue inside the welcoming cavern. Both their wet appendages met with a soft clash, there was no battle of dominance, both men just enjoying the kiss and falling into a steady laps and groans-time seemed to lapse into infinity.

And when they finally both pulled back, greedily gulping in binging amounts of oxygen, and grinning madly from ear to ear, a sense of clarity settled over them both.

They’d defiantly be trying out the two handed shuffle.

{ **EXTRA** : Finch kept his poise great, back curved slightly into the taller man as they easily floated across the floor, music turned down low and the curved shape of a crescent moon hanging in the window. It was a slow and steady beat, nothing amazing and jumpy, simply something given with aid of their little dance. Reese and Finch had been dancing steadily for about two years now, and were contently awaiting the two year mark of their official relationship. Throughout this time period, Reese had grown into an agile dance, and it had greatly improved his reflexes on the field-surprisingly enough. But having Finch, the ever changing enigma of a partner, teach you how to dance, one must be prepared for everything and anything. One slip up and you could end up with a mess of bundled limbs on the floor and very disapproving glare from the recluse, plus your sex life dwindling down to nothing for two weeks. Reese was defiantly more reflexed, and tempered, calm and detached with some Numbers, mainly the ones who tried to flirt their merry little ways right into his trousers.

Reese had learned to improvise, which is when Finch had started leaning his right foot on Reese’s left, the ex-op more than happy to let Finch’s foot rest atop his own. Being more the capable to gently slide them to and fro, their tempo was quicker, smoother, Finch’s limp neutralized from the equation this way. Finch took liberty in intertwining their guiding hands, his other hand resting more along the nape of Reese’s broad neck, while the taller man’s hand rested lowly on the small curve of Finch’s tailbone. They seamlessly maneuvered across Reese’s apartment building; the sparse furniture was pushed back all the way, making ample room for their dancing.

Bear was lounging by the kitchen table, tail thumping, strangely enough, along with the rhythm of the music. Occasionally, Reese would dip his head down to steal a kiss, mark the pale neck and maybe even throw in a good ass squeeze-not minding the simple punishment Finch gave him-the blush that rose to the pastel surface was far too good to pass up. They would dance until it was late, sometimes even twelve in the morning, it wasn’t good for their working health, but their relationship fluttered to full bloom the later the night streamed by.

Some nights they never got to any filthy activities, although they were regular participants on that particular activity. They were satisfied by drifting smoothly across the floor, sharing kisses and broken words of love, devotion.

It’s alright to take things slow; love is a never ending lesson. }

**Author's Note:**

> I much enjoyed writing this one.  
> Do hope you enjoyed reading it.


End file.
